The Old Church
by Kryptoncat
Summary: While visiting America, Belarus decides to explore an abandoned church.


_For sirvalkyrie; a Hetalia Holidays gift. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya._

**The Old Church**

"Alright, I'm just going to come out and say it. I don't really think we should go in there."

America fiddled with his hat in his hands. He taken to wearing one recently, but it never stayed on his head for long. Hats also gave him terrible hat hair, which may have been the reason why Belarus was examining the carvings of plants and flowers on the exterior of the church instead of looking at him when she replied.

"It's quaint." She moved from her spot in the lush greenery and started walking up the steps to the large oak doors.

"Well, I know it's not as fancy as what you guys have in Europe but- No! Don't do that!"

But Belarus opened the door anyway and stepped inside. The church couldn't have been more than fifty years old, she reasoned, but it sure smelled ancient. She walked further until she came to a large disgusting rug on the floor next to the pulpit. The pews facing it were covered in dust and rotting. The cobwebs that coated them and the ceiling were swaying in time with the breeze that was coming in through the door. America was holding it open, his expression pleading for Belarus to come out.

She turned and motioned for him to enter. He started to look cross.

"You said it was open to the public. Is that correct?" She leaned towards him, but did not move from her spot.

"Yes, but we- ah!" The wind suddenly picked up, and blew America's hat into the building. He ran after it without thinking, and the door shut behind him.

Belarus picked up his hat and wiped off the dust with the hem of her apron. America stood stock-still. He saw grime covering the edges of the windows; making the room much too dark for the middle of the day.

"Why was this church abandoned?" Belarus asked him. She wondered if the hat would look good on her.

"Murder," America said. "And bad luck. And ghosts."

"Hmm."

Belarus noticed a stairwell to her left. She tossed America his hat. "You should take better care of it; it's fraying." She started up the stairs.

"Hey, it's not- wait! Don't leave me here alone!" He jammed his hat on his head and nearly ran into her. She had stopped to examine scratch marks on the railing. They ran deep and irregular, and all of them were curved in a crescent shape. She rubbed her finger over the gouges and thought about her knife.

"Someone must have been desperate."

"They sure were," America replied, squinting his eyes to see. "The murderer was a gardener who worked here. One day he started stabbing everything in his path. Even himself. No one ever found out why." He shivered. It was too dark and much too chilly for just after lunch.

They crept up the stairs, America tense and wincing at every loud creek. Belarus sought out new gouge marks on the rail with her fingers. They grew more frequent as they ascended the stair. Finally, they approached a door. Belarus reached for the handle but hesitated, her hand just above the keyhole. America looked at her as best as he could in the shadows. Her face seemed much softer.

"You know," he said, hat in hand, "If you're scared; we can always lea-"

Belarus turned suddenly and gave a hardened glare, her eyes mere inches away from his. America yelped and started to stumble backwards, but Belarus grabbed the hat he was still hanging on to and pulled him back up. She then yanked it out of his hands, put it on her head, then turned and forced open the door.

Sunlight streamed in from the windowless panes. America gasped and shielded his eyes while Belarus pulled the brim of her hat down. They surveyed the room. A rope for a bell hung empty from the ceiling. A lone table and chair sat near the far wall. Little pieces of multicolored glass sparkled dimly through the dust in the corners. Curiously, plants were growing in small flowerpots near the window.

"That's funny," America said, walking over and leaning down to examine them. "No one ever comes here; how are these growing?"

"Look at this," Belarus said as she tapped a small metal pipe running along the wall above the flowers. It was wet; water obviously dripped down it to the dirt.

"Ah," America said, nodding. "That explains it! No, wait - no, it doesn't! Why is this pipe even here in the first place, and who is going out of their way to pump water up to it?"

Belarus shrugged and turned her attention to the table.

"Maybe it's a water pressure thing," America muttered, turning 'round as he thought. "Yeah, that sounds good. The water is just being pushed through the pipes because of the pressure from the dam that's just around YAUGH!"

A large knife had been thrust in the center of the table. Belarus grabbed the handle and yanked it out. Rust had corroded the blade, but it was easy to imagine blood running down it smoothly from tip to handle as she held it up to the sunlight.

"There it is! The bad luck I told you about!" America yelled, pointing. "We disturbed it's home, and now the ghost is coming back for us!"

"This isn't the knife." Belarus set it back down on the table, disappointed.

America paused his panic attack. "What?"

"This isn't the murder weapon." Belarus pointed down at the table. It had been deeply gouged many times. "This knife didn't make all of these marks. It's blade is not curved. Someone else must have put this one here later. Disgraceful."

"Oh." America started laughing. "Oh! A prank! That's actually a good one. Kids these days, huh?" He was tearing up with relief and doing a bad job at hiding it. Belarus made a point of staring at him trying to compose himself, then sighed and headed back towards the stairs.

"Ooh, wait a second!" America ran up beside her and placed a flower from the windowsill in her hat brim. "Now the fraying doesn't look so bad. Not-! Not that it looked bad on you!"

He smiled, and he wasn't sure if she wore a scowl or was overcompensating at trying to hide a grin. She turned her head quickly away from him and walked to the door.

"You know, this was kind of fun." America ambled jauntily down the steps, the sunlight fully at his back. "We should do it again sometime."

"Hmm."

"Maybe our bosses won't miss us for a little while longer if we head straight to-"

But America didn't get to finish that sentence either, for when they reached the main room of the church he noticed they weren't alone. In the back pew sat a man in a long dark suit carefully twirling something in his hands. It was a spade.

"Flowers inside. Flowers inside."

The man raised his spade high above his head. A dull copper smell filled the air. America gaped. Belarus took a step forward, but the man did not seem to notice them. Instead, he slashed the spade down on the pew in front of him. Then he grabbed something from his pockets - seeds - and started rubbing them into the hole.

"Flowers inside. Flowers inside."

"That's a stupid way to make something beautiful grow inside you."

Her voice was quiet and calm. The man looked up. He pointed to the flower in Belarus's hat.

"Mine."

He held out his spade and staggered towards Belarus, but America cut in front of her.

"Hey, I gave her that flower. Don't threaten her!"

The man smiled and America finally noticed how pale the man was and the blood smeared across the front of his coat. America stumbled backwards, and the ghost lept towards him.

In dashed Belarus, promptly stuffing her hat in the ghost's face and pushing him down through the pews. The spade clattered away from her, towards America's feet, and she felt the ghost disappear from under her. He reappeared in front of America seconds later, but America had already taken the spade and thrown it out the window.

"Flowers inside. Flowers... outside." The ghost seemed almost pleasantly surprised as he turned and ran through the door.

The hat was badly damaged by this point, but America did not seem to care as he hurried over to Belarus to help her up so they could leave. One of the other ghosts in the church offered to replace it, claiming to be inspired after witnessing their bravery. America fainted. Belarus caught him and accepted the offer.


End file.
